Improvlock: The Improvised Killings
by hulafreaky
Summary: Jeff, Chip, and some of the other stars from Whose Line Is It Anyways? were invited to London for the International Improv Convention. It was an exciting experience that turned very bad very quickly. After having two of their colleagues brutally murdered, they turn to the only Consulting Detective in the world to help them search for the killer avenge their friend's death.


Jeff stared into the mirror as he tied his tie. He was getting ready to meet the man; the man who could help them. Jeff and the others had gone through so much on their trip to London. They lost two of their good friends, nearly three. It was a mistake coming here. The Whose Live gang as well as Colin and Brad had been invited to perform at the International Improv Convention. It was a high honor, really. There were so many great improvisers in the world and to be invited to represent the US was incredible.

"Are you ready to go?" Chip knocked on bathroom door.

"Yeah. I'll be out in a minute. I'll just meet you in the lobby." Jeff called out. He placed his hands down on the counter and stared at himself in the mirror. Once he heard Chip leave, he screamed. Not too loud, just enough to get rid of his frustration. There was someone out there; someone out there who did not like them. They had already gotten to Colin and Brad. They nearly killed Chip. Thank god Jeff was there to scare away the killer. Jeff couldn't catch a proper glimpse at him. He tried to get Chip to explain but Chip was too traumatized to talk about it. Jeff grabbed his suit jacket and headed down to the lobby. Within 20 minutes they made it to Baker Street.

"Remind me why we didn't just go to the police?" Chip asked as they walked up the stairs to 221B.

"Because the police would take forever, especially since we aren't from around here." Ryan explained and knocked on the door.

A short, blonde man opened the door with a friendly smile. "Ah, hello. I'm John Watson."

Ryan returned the smile as he shook his hand. "Yes, we've read your blog. Incredible things you've got on there, Doctor Watson."

John smiled. "Please. Call me John." He looked over the faces of the other men. "Please, come in." He ushered them in.

They did as he said and walked up the stairs into 221B. The four of them stood in the middle of the flat looking around at the various items scattered around the place. The hanging skeleton was particularly alarming to the foursome.

"Sherlock!" John called into the kitchen. "We have a client."

Jeff and the others watched the tall man in a suit stride into the living room. The raven-haired man stared at them, taking in as much information as possible.

"You're all coworkers and friends judging by your close proximity to each other but professionalism. You're here for a business trip because you are all American but something has interrupted your vacation into this foreign country." He glanced at Greg's saddened expression. "Hmm. Murder. And you haven't gone to the police? You just came here first? You lot are definitely smarter than most." He smiled. "The name's Sherlock Holmes. I will take your case."

They all stared at him in shock. "How did you—?" Ryan spit out. "That's incredible."

"You sound like John."

John shook his head. "Tell us what happened."

"Well, we—" Ryan started to speak but was interrupted by Sherlock.

"They don't need to explain, John. I already know everything."

Chip chuckled. "You sound like Jeff."

John smiled. "Go on."

Ryan continued. "We were invited for an Improv convention to represent USA but during our stay here in London, two of our coworkers, our friends, were," he paused. "Murdered. Chip here," he pointed to the short blue-eyed man beside him. "He nearly died as well but Jeff was there to save him."

Sherlock turned to Jeff and Chip quickly. "What did the murderer look like? What weapon did he use?" He began to shoot off questions rapidly before Jeff or Chip could even answer any.

"Sherlock!" John yelled at him. "Enough. So much for knowing everything."

"It's good to ask questions, John."

"Not if you're Sherlock Holmes." John rolled his eyes and ignored Sherlock's irritated face. "Why haven't you gone to the police?" John asked calmly.

"We couldn't. They would take forever. And we're not from here. Take forever and double it and that's how long we will wait." Jeff sighed. "We have read your blog, John, and if what you say is true, Sherlock can help us find out who the killer is by tomorrow." Jeff stood up and stared at Sherlock.

"Jeff," Chip whispered. "It's alright. Don't push it."

Jeff looked down at Chip and raised his voice. "Chip! Colin and Brad are dead! Dead Chip! How can you be so calm? Don't you want to find out who did it?"

"Well, what are we going to do when we find him? Kill him ourselves?"

"No! We will bring him to the police! Maybe a little beat up during the process." Ryan stepped in.

"This man killed our friends, Chip, and he nearly killed you. Why are you defending him?" Greg asked.

Chip shook his head. "I don't know."

Sherlock interrupted. "We'll start where you found the first body. Has it been tampered with?" Sherlock turned to Jeff who seems to be the leader of the group.

"Well, yes. We found Brad on the side of the road just on outside the boundary of West Smithfield. We followed the blood trail back and he was killed in the middle of an alleyway near a hospital. St. Bartholomew's is what I think it was called."

"Then we found Colin in the dumpster nearby." Ryan jumped in and Jeff nodded in agreement.

Jeff was suddenly hit with the nauseous memory of finding his friends' bodies. The rest of them had enough of waiting for them so they decided to head out and look for them. Little did they know they'd find Brad and Colin murdered in the middle of London. He didn't even want to think about the state of their bodies when they found them.

"What are you going to do, Mr. Holmes?" Greg asked with clear hope in his voice.

Sherlock started out the door, grabbing his coat and scarf on the way out. The four men watched him confused. John grinned sheepishly. "He does this at times. No need to worry." They all followed him out.

"Do really think this lunatic can help us?" Chip asked Jeff as he grabbed his hand.

"With all my heart." Jeff said as he placed a chaste kiss to his lover's lips.

"Did he really do all the things you've mentioned on your blog?" Ryan looked down at John as they got out of the cab.

John laughed. "Yes, he did. I know it seems highly unlikely but, he's just that brilliant."

"So, the fall? That was all true?" Greg asked, amazed.

John nodded. "Yes, that bastard put me through two years of pain all to save my life and the lives of a couple others. He can deny it all he wants; I still think he's a hero."

They approached the consulting detective and saw him roll his eyes when he caught sight of the looks of amazement plastered on the men's faces. "Are you trying to make me out to be a hero again? Honestly John, anyone would do what I did."

John scoffed. "Are you saying everyone is as clever as you are?"

Sherlock looked at him and turned back to the alleyway near his favourite hospital. He ignored John's question and returned to the blood trails all along their feet. John smirked.

"This is where they were killed." Jeff stated.

Sherlock groaned at the stupidity of his new clients. "Obviously."

"Sherlock, he's just trying to help us out." John held Sherlock's shoulder.

He scrunched his eyebrows and stared down at John. "I thought the very reason of us being here was to help them."

Chip walked up to the tall man and stuck out his chest to make him look taller and stronger. "Hey! If you don't want to help us, we can just leave you to your fancy cases! Maybe you'll jump off another building and hurt all your friends!" Chip stopped himself after those last words.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the funny, blue-eyed, short man. He took a couple steps towards him. "Hmm," he looked Chip up and down. "You seem to be quick to get rid of me. I assume you weren't quite close with these two men." He gestured to the blood that has been splattered against the brick walls and cement ground.

Chip flinched when he caught sight of the blood. "I loved those men! I respected them!" He shouted at the emotionless man.

Sherlock grinned and turned his back to Chip. "I see you used the past tense. Despite their being dead, you can still love and respect these men."

Jeff grabbed his arm. "Hey! I know he may not be appreciative of your services but he sure as hell did not kill our friends. Chip would never do that." Ryan and Greg muttered out their agreement. Jeff walked over to Chip and put his arm around him. "I don't appreciate your accusations towards my boyfriend."

John raised his eyebrows in shock. "Oh! You guys are, um," he was at a loss for words as he pointed his finger at the two men who were in each other's embrace.

"Gay, John." Sherlock informed John as he stared at the men. "They're gay. One word, one syllable. The very thing you keep saying you're not."

"Yes, alright, I get it." John muttered out in an irritated breath.

Sherlock sighed. "I suggest we get back to the matter at hand." He walked over to the blood spattered walls and pulled out his magnifying glass. He examined the stains and inspected the dumpster that one of the bodies was thrown into. He stood up straight and put his magnifying glass in his pocket.

Ryan crossed his arms. "Well? Have you found anything?"

"Your friends were killed by someone who obviously wasn't very skilled. They were quite sloppy. Most likely a man; a woman cannot simply just drag bodies around. Also, assuming that these men were walking together which is more probable considering they were killed in the same area, a woman is definitely out of the picture. The multiple blood stains that were left implies that the killer and the two men had somewhat of a brawl; not just a simple shooting. There are three different blood types in this vicinity. And after examining that enormous stain, I've come to the conclusion that after a few punches, the killer pulled out a weapon, most likely a knife, and slashed the throats of your two friends. Leaving the bodies here is an idiotic error. And if I'm correct, the killer's fingerprints are all over the bodies after dragging them about. Where have you put them? And please tell me you used gloves when moving the bodies."

"Yes, we used gloves. We, um, we met a girl that works in the morgue and she helped us out. She was actually the one who suggested we speak to you." Greg pointed to John and Sherlock.

John gave his best friend a questioning look and the consulting detective nodded. "Molly. Yes. She tends to involve herself in someone else's issues through the good of her heart." He quickly sprinted to the back door that led to the mortuary. John heaved a sigh before gesturing to the others to follow.

Sherlock entered the morgue and shed himself of his scarf and coat. A woman popped in around the corner. "Sherlock! Hello!" She squeaked out.

"Where have you put the bodies?" He asked, skipping the pleasantries.

She looked at him confused. "Bodies? Sorry Sherlock, you're going to have to be a little more specific." She motioned around to the multiple slabs and the entire wall of bodies stored safely away.

"The bodies that you stored here for a group of men which, by the way, is against the law. Quite proud of you, Molly."

A look of realization passed over her face. "Oh!" She smiled. "Oh, yes they're right over here." She walked over to the two black bags zipped up on a couple slabs in the corner. As she did so, the other five men entered. They all surrounded the bodies as Molly prepared to unzip them.

"Hurry up, Molly. I plan to solve this by dinner time." He rushed her as her fingers began to tremble over the zipper.

She squeaked as she quickly let her digits pull down the bag of one. Before she looked at the face, she unzipped the other. She gasped as she caught sight of the face of a different body.

Sherlock looked at the body then at the faces of his clients. He sighed. "I take it these aren't the bodies then."


End file.
